My cycling escape route
from Austin took me through a cemetery. Each trip through
the graveyard reminded me of what was buried there. Not
loved ones, not old people, not even well-fed worms, rather,
everything these people wanted to do or dreamed of doing
while they were alive, but never made time for. Every bike
ride they never took. There was a lot of unfinished business
in that cemetery, and the voices all said the same thing to
me: Do it now. Don't wait or delay. Listen to your heart. Do
whatever is it you want to accomplish NOW, before you join
us here. Start RIGHT now, and do it with all of your
heart.

It was like having Jesus,
Goethe, and a Nike sales rep all speaking to me at once. We
only regret, it seems, the things we were afraid to do. Like
quitting our jobs to bicycle across the country.

To me a cemetery isn't
sacred ground. It's just a park. A garden with nice
walkways. I (still) number among the living, and my bicycle
wheels can't help but laugh a little at the graves upon
which they roll. Graveyards are entirely too somber. While
others might feel a need to be solemn and respectful, I
simply feel appreciative of the nice asphalt paths. I
appreciate this place for what it really is, which is a
beautiful garden and a convenient shortcut. I'm sure this is
how the dead would want me to see it. If not for my shortcut
through the cemetery I'd have to ride down a busy and
dangerous street .

It used to be people were buried
next to the church they went to. The inevitability of death stared
you in the face each time you attended church. Anything dealing with
the hereafter brought you within six feet of the not so deeply buried
evidence that here and now is all the opportunity there is to touch,
feel, taste, hear, and see, whether it be a lover, a sunset, a baby,
the ocean, or a forest. For me, that reminder comes cycling through
the cemetery.

Americans today are so busy trying
to stay fit and look healthy I think they've forgotten dying is part
of the plan. Letting go of the fear of death must be the best part
about actually doing it, seeing the approaching peace, accepting the
inevitable cessation of life. Instead, we hide death and
dying.

I know cycling is dangerous.
Bicycle daily for two years, and you're going to get hit or run off
the road at least once. One of those incidents may kill you. Unlike
other cyclists I neither ignore the possiblity of death or shrink
from it. When my numbers up, its up. I just hope its a good
clean hit.

"I am doing what I love,
bicycling" I mumbled to myself as I pedaled past the tightly arranged
gravesites. "It is a gorgeous day and I do not wish to be anywhere
else, doing anything else. At least for this moment, this instant in
time, I am truly living. " The caretakers do an excellent job, with
old, well cared for trees providing shade, exquisitely manicured
green grass, no weeds, and no traffic. I only wished the cemetary was
larger. Rod Steward was a grave digger, did you know that? Maybe he
got the same inspiration, heard the same voices I did. It has always
appeared to me he's someone who has lived and is still living
fully.

Harold and Maude understood. Maybe
they heard the voices too. To live fully means you need to keep death
in the overall picture. These two movie characters would attend
strangers funerals to remind themselves of this fact. While the movie
focused on their obsession with death, in a campy sort of way, there
was also the reminder given out to live. Take risks. Truly live.
Don't fear the reaper.

What about the well-dressed people
who come to put flowers on their loved ones's graves or are still in
the process of planting them and see some idiot like me in neon
lycra? Someone pumping the pedals with no intention of stopping to
pay respect to anything. Should I stop, get off my bike, bow my head,
say something reverent, and then go on my way? Maybe I could say
something like "Thank you all for such a well maintained bikepath"
under my breath so as to appear reverent, and cross myself in the
shape of a Shimano derailler. It would, at least, be
honest.

Sometimes I say a little prayer
asking for divine safety before I go out riding. Cycling is about the
riskiest thing I do. One time I had a blowout coming down a mountain
pass at 40 m.p.h.. My bike began to fishtail, with each swipe taking
me closer to the asphalt than before. I fully expected to crash on
the very next fishtail. I prepared myself mentally, knowing I was
going to be hurt, real bad. Suddenly, amazingly, I found myself
upright and able to safely stop. I'll always wonder if that was the
day my prayer was answered. I know it wasn't anything I did that
straightened my bike out of that wicked fishtail but, instead, the
Hand of God, whatever that is.

In "Schindler's List" the Nazis
used Jewish gravestones to pave a road into one of the concentration
camps. Despite it being a total desecration I thought it made for a
truly beautiful, one of a kind roadway. You would never forget having
traveled upon such a pathway. It would remind each person who passed
upon it of the finality of life, and importance of living fully up
till that very last moment, no matter what the circumstances. Of
never giving up on hopes and dreams.

Not that anyone today would
consider such a thing, using gravestones to pave bikeways. Instead we
have thousands of military crosses which shall dot the hillsides of
places like Arlington, Normandy, and Point Loma until eternity, and
ornate gravestones of the rich and powerful which only rain and wind
shall ever begin to erode. I'd prefer to see them all used to pave
bike paths and sidewalks for use by the living. The deceased's name
being completely smoothed away might signify that they could now rest
in total peace.

Death comes only once in each
lifetime. Until then you can cycle through the cemetery as many times
as you want, until you too, must sag your final ride home.